


The Prophecy

by oddtwist



Series: The Prophecy [1]
Category: New Seven
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 09:10:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1545374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddtwist/pseuds/oddtwist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a work in progress, set a few years post GP. This story has been on my mind forever - ever since I fell in love with the character of Avon - and it just won't leave me alone. I've recently dusted it off, re-written it and have begun to add new chapters. If I ever finish it, I will tag it properly and post it in the appropriate fandom.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress, set a few years post GP. This story has been on my mind forever - ever since I fell in love with the character of Avon - and it just won't leave me alone. I've recently dusted it off, re-written it and have begun to add new chapters. If I ever finish it, I will tag it properly and post it in the appropriate fandom.

"She's back."

Emma Beauvy looked up from her data pad when Stewart Kilmonis popped his head around the corner of the infirmary. She knew instantly what he meant.

"And she’s not alone."

Emma hit the save-button to store her notes and leaned back in her chair. That concluded work for today. Her ageing eyes found it hard enough to concentrate on the screen as it was but after this announcement she would not be able to bring herself to return to her duties.

"Is his identity confirmed?"

"My scouts were certain. They will reach the camp by midday tomorrow."

A sudden sense of dread took possession of her. The doctor had every reason to believe that the new arrivals could destroy all they had accomplished in the past year. The raid on the base had left the rebels in a state of stasis but the survivors had regrouped and started to rebuild the organisation from the ruins. They were still extremely vulnerable, although their numbers were growing - mainly because word about the mysterious recovery of their fatally wounded rebel-leader spread like wildfire.

The indigenous peoples of Gauda Prime all knew of the Legend of the One. Like Kilmonis, they had grown up with the tales the elders passed on from generation to generation. The prophecy told of a strong leader, an off-worlder, who would come to Gauda Prime to die and then he would rise again and save the people from the apocalypse.

Folklore or not, the legend fitted Blake like a glove. Doctor Beauvy had done all that was humanly possible to save Blake's life, but he had been as good as dead when Kilmonis snatched him away from her. He’d taken the rebel leader deep into the forest where he left him in the care of a crazy old woman, a follower of the old Ga-ii traditions, who treated the locals with home-made potions and ointments. It was a mystery what happened out there in the woods, but Blake came back - alive.

The miraculous resurrection brought the Cause plenty of new followers and more were coming, from other worlds now; outcasts, dissidents, idealists, freedom fighters, fortune seekers - many useful people among them. They all came because of one man: Roj Blake, the one who would lead them in the decisive battle against the Federation.

The young woman arrived in the early spring last year; a thin youth, with bright blue eyes, her manner withdrawn and shy - the personification of the fact that looks could be deceiving. Her elegant body harboured a strength and resilience that could match any of Kilmonis' soldiers. She was a mercenary who went by the name of Rhi and she’d managed to build up a considerable reputation over the years. The daring attack on the pharmaceutical factory on Gull-5 was one of her undertakings. It was said that she was also the one who had solely managed to smuggle out an important Viral expert from a high-risk prison facility on Earth.

Her loyalties did not lie with Blake or his Cause but she had set her mind on abducting Kerr Avon from Federation custody to collect the 10 million credits Blake was willing to pay for his killer. The rumours regarding the whereabouts of the man who shot the rebel leader were many. He was sighted on various worlds; as a free man, as a slave, a collaborator, a prisoner; but the rumours about the prison colony Cendus VI had been more than persistent. Especially when reports started coming in that a Federation class-A space ship had docked in their port shortly after the massacre - for many a clear indication of Servalan's presence. Why else would she be interested in this barren world, where the Federation sent their dissidents? To Emma Beauvy this was an easy question. Servalan's visit could be explained by the fact that one of her closest allies was running the main prison facility. Carnell was the Federation's best psycho-strategic analyst and in her lust for power the woman would naturally consult him.

Emma didn’t believe that Kerr Avon was on Cendus, even if he had survived that fatal encounter in the tracking gallery. She was convinced that the Federation was behind the reports of scientists being shipped off to the prison planet to work with the notorious tech from the Liberator. They were masters in setting up elaborate traps to lure bounty hunters in search for Blake’s assassin. Emma sighed at the thought of all the good men who had failed in their attempts to find the man - a complete waste of lives and resources. Suggestions to withdraw the price on Avon’s head were categorically rejected. Discussions with the rebel leader on this particular topic proved to be futile – to put it mildly.

Kilmonis interrupted her pondering. "You'll have to say goodbye to your little helper." he said with a nod at the window.

Emma peered outside where a young girl played chess with Pirol, her assistant. They were in their regular spot in the shade under a big oak tree. From the look on Pirol's face it was quite evident that he was losing.

Mare was part of the arrangement. Rhi had made the journey to Gauda Prime so she could deal with Blake personally, in order to secure the safety of the child. Blake would see to it that the girl was cared for while she collected - her exact words – Kerr Avon. All the more reason for Emma Beauvy to have trouble believing that Rhi was in fact the illustrious mercenary. People who lived dangerously didn't usually travel in the company of children.

Mare had become the doctor's house guest and helped out wherever she could. As it turned out she was very useful and extremely bright. The doctor spoke as little as possible about Rhi's absence and the child never asked about her, although many months went by without any sign of life. Emma was convinced that a mercenary with a reputation like Rhi would either come back with her catch or never come back at all. Silently she'd already decided which it would be. Apparently she’d been mistaken: she was back – and not alone.

Emma chuckled when she saw how Pirol shook hands with the little girl, on his face a look of hardly contained bewilderment about the fact that she had beaten him so quickly this time. The child ran off and joined the horse trainer who was on his way to feed the animals.

"Pirol will be sorry to see her go." Emma said. “He liked having another pair of hands around the hospital.”

"Are you sure?" Kilmonis asked in surprise. "It must be very frustrating for a grown man to keep losing chess from a six-year-old."

She smiled at that and looked up at him. Stewart Kilmonis was not a sociable man, yet he kept lingering in the doorway. She scrutinized him for a moment before it dawned on her.

"You haven't told him yet, have you?"

Kilmonis nodded.

"Where is he?"

"He's in the town square, welcoming the new arrivals from the prison-transport we raided yesterday."

"I'll go and see him before supper."

“Thank you.”

Kilmonis was grateful that she was willing to relieve him of the role as bearer of good tidings. Blake's second in command was a great warrior but he was a simple, straight-forward man when it came to matters of the heart. The odd relationship between Blake and Avon made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. The fact that Blake had been shot by the man he called his friend was something he would never understand in a million years. Therefore he truly did not know if these were good tidings for the rebel-leader.

Neither did Emma for that matter.


	2. Chapter 2

Avon opened his eyes to the unfamiliar sight of a bright moon in a star-pocked sky above him. The light rustle of the wind had made him doze off until his back woke him up. He was not used to sleeping in the outdoors and the fact that his hands were restrained behind his back was hardly conducive to getting a good night’s rest.

He turned on his side and faced the young woman who was sleeping peacefully. The light breeze played with a strand of her hair, gently tickling her eyebrow. She was a few feet away from her prisoner; sound asleep near the dying campfire.

Avon was well secured to a tree and did not cause any threat, but for her to really sleep like that surprised him. If anything, Rhi was a professional and her greatest asset was that she foresaw every trick he thought of. Every opportunity to escape was nipped in the bud. In a way, she reminded him of Cally. Her uncanny ability to always be one step ahead of him had often made him uneasy. He fleetingly wondered if this woman also had telepathic abilities or if she was just good at her job.

A slight movement behind the sleeping woman caught his attention. A large shape emerged from the dark woods behind her. A wolf. Avon watched in fascination how the animal awarded him a casual glance and then moved to sit beside the girl. No threat in its behaviour. It just sat there as if on guard.

Another wolf appeared, followed by a larger shape, going upright - a man in a long black cape. The hooded figure patted the animal's back and wandered past the girl towards her prisoner.

Rhi appeared to be in an unusually deep sleep. Avon had never seen her like this - not on the escape-shuttle, nor on their four day journey on this green planet. She was like a dolphin; always one half of the brain alert.

The stranger seemed to be walking on air: there was no sound but the wind when he closed in on Avon. In the pale moonlight, the shimmer of a knife flashed from underneath the cape and the thick rope that secured his cuffs to the tree was cut. Avon looked up to catch a glimpse of the face underneath the hood but there was nothing there but an anonymous black spot.

It didn't matter really. Faces were not important now. Words were not necessary. Avon instinctively knew what was to come. He had waited so long for this moment that he almost felt a sense of camaraderie with the stranger.

He rose carefully so as not to alarm the wolves -or the girl for that matter - and moved towards the second wolf who took the lead. Not a word was spoken when they walked away from the camp. They went deeper into the woods, until they reached a clearing. Avon felt a hand on his shoulder, halting him with an almost tentative touch, gently forcing him down on his knees.

Time slowed. Avon was keenly conscious of himself. The light breeze that caressed his skin, the soft bed of moss and leaves that welcomed him as he sank his knees into it - the slow beat of his heart thudding in his ears. A feeling of surrender washed over him as he realised that this was the end.

Finally, it would all be over.

He was acutely aware of the presence behind him: the hand steadily holding his shoulder when a scraping sound announced that a sword was removed from its sheath.

The wolf moved to sit in front of him. The animal looked straight at him - yellow eyes scrutinizing him, gleaming in the moonlight, waiting for the inevitable. In the eyes of the beast, he saw the reflection of metal glimmering behind him and as if on cue Avon bowed his head, closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.

All sound ceased to exist. He was trapped inside a vacuum of absolute silence, with only the rush of his own blood whispering in his soul. The night birds refused to sing their song while the evening breeze interrupted its playful game of gently rustling the fallen leaves - as if this moment could only be honoured by total silence.

A feeling of inner peace invaded every fibre of Avon's being. He was ready. He would not have to face that last little surprise that Carnell had in store for him. He wanted it to finally happen - the moment he had longed for so long.

He held his breath and waited.

_Alone and silent._

Cally’s words. Not quite as alone as the Auronar had been in her dying moment. And not silent at all. The sound of heavy breathing behind him broke his concentration. The hand that held him down was now virtually clutching his shoulder, fleetingly reminding him of the strong grip of someone from his past - physically demanding attention.

The tranquillity of total silence was over as sudden as it had begun. The wind and the animals of the night made themselves known again, as if someone hit the play-button on the remote to blissfully set free the world that had been put on hold. Avon tensed up against the aching muscles from that burning hand on his body. _What was he waiting for?_

He opened his eyes.

The wolf was still in its spot, but on all fours now. It moved away and disappeared in the dark. The hand was suddenly gone. Avon turned to look behind him, his eyes following the sound of leaves rustling in the distance, but it was not his executioner fleeing the scene - the footsteps were approaching. Fast.

Rhi appeared; a little out of breath, holding a heat sensor in one hand, gun in the other. She scanned the area before she approached Avon, who was still on his knees in the middle of the clearing.

"Come on."

She helped him to his feet and made him turn around to check the handcuffs. Avon's heart began to hammer at the sight that was presented to him. He had not really taken in his surroundings before, being too focused on savouring his last moments in life, but now he was directly facing a magnificent tree. The ancient oak seemed to be alive within the shadows of the branches - its thick, scruffy bark gently breathing in the light of the moon.

He had seen that tree a thousand times - haunting him in his dreams. The memory of maggots and insect still made his skin crawl. He swallowed hard to fight the upcoming nausea when the images of his nightmare flashed by in full colour. The blood, the smell of decay, the vermin feeding on the intestines of a decomposing body – it was not just a figment of his imagination. It was all real. He stood on the exact spot where Blake had died a horrible death.

He staggered backwards against the girl. "We're on Gauda Prime.” He almost whispered the words.

"Of course." Rhi checked her heat sensor again to make sure that it only registered the two signals. Whoever abducted her prisoner had made themselves scarce very quickly. "I'm taking you to Blake. He pays good money to get you back.”

She put the sensor in her pocket and took Avon by the arm. His little excursion was over. She was puzzled about what had happened tonight, but didn’t bother to ask - she seriously doubted if he would answer truthfully. Instead she asked him another question that had been preying on her mind.

“Tell me, am I taking you to the hangman or to your friend?"

"Roj Blake is dead." Avon said, his haunting dark eyes still firmly fixed on the big tree as if he expected it would leap on him and devour him whole. "I shot him." It sounded as if he wasn’t too sure about that.

Rhi shrugged her shoulders. "Dead or alive, as long as he pays me, I don't really care what state he's in.”

They made their way back to the camp, but for the remainder of the night neither of them was able to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day they arrived in the rebel camp. Avon made the journey cuffed and blindfolded, with Rhi behind him in the saddle making sure that the horse progressed slowly. He had scoffed the blindfold; as if she actually expected he would live to see another day once she'd collected her reward.

To his surprise Avon enjoyed the blind ride. Without the use of his eyes, Gauda Prime was a true cacophony of sound - not at all like he remembered from his last visit. Bright clattering rhythms and contact calls were all around them. The steady cadence of the hooves posed as a percussionist accompanying this orchestra of nature. In the distance he could hear the magnificent thundering of a waterfall while the constant whisper of the mild breeze in the trees escorted them on their journey. It put everything into perspective - made him realize that they were just tiny, insignificant specs of dust in a giant universe.

When this symphony of nature gradually died down and was replaced by sounds more familiar to him, he knew they were coming to the end of their journey. A dog barked in the distance and he could hear voices, children even - laughing. As they came nearer, the voices stilled one by one until he could only make out the occasional whisper.

Rhi dismounted and helped him down. Avon didn't need his eyesight to know that a small crowd gathered around them. He could sense the girl's tension when she stood close to him, motionless for a moment. Her fingers lightly grazed against his arm before she gently pushed him forward. They slowly walked a short distance before they came to a halt. Rhi released him and stepped away from her prisoner.

An odd sense of helplessness seized Avon when she was no longer by his side, leaving him alone and vulnerable, extradited to whatever was awaiting him in this hostile environment. She had been a constant companion as his guard in prison and his keeper in the weeks after their escape - he had grown accustomed to having her around.

The hand on his shoulder was unexpected; bigger than the girl's, yet so familiar that Avon couldn’t help holding his breath. The man in front of him, larger than himself, radiating warmth. His blindfold was removed. Avon had his eyes closed underneath and for a split second he pondered if he should actually open them to take in what his mind had already depicted for him.

Blake.

He stood very close to Avon - deliberately invading the private space he knew the other man treasured so dearly. Before he opened his eyes, Avon was absolutely certain that this was the person he spent two years sailing the universe with. He recognised the familiar reaction he used to get when confronted with the charisma that surrounded this man like a halo - an indeterminate combination of resentment and admiration that confused him time and again.

"Hello, Avon." The deep, warm voice confirmed what his senses had already established.

Avon deliberately turned his head sideways to open his eyes, squinting against the bright sun. He stood in the centre of a small crowd of people, who eyed him as if he was personally responsible for killing their pet dog. Their animosity was almost tangible in the air. Each of them had a weapon within reach, ready to use it if Avon would make a false move.

Then he could no longer restrain his curiosity and slowly ran his eyes over the man before him. Common sense told him that this was not possible, but in his heart there was no doubt. This was unmistakably Roj Blake. Dressed in plain brown farmer’s clothes, that much resembled Avon's own attire. Tanned like a woodsman, grey hair at the temples, the lines on his skin deeper, more pronounced, the left side of his face disfigured by a prominent pink scar. His mellow brown eyes mirrored Avon’s scrutiny. It was him. In the flesh. Risen from the dead.

They regarded each other in silence for a moment until Avon was sure that he could inject the right tone of sarcasm in his voice and spoke.

"And what a warm welcome it is."

Blake smiled. Avon looked thinner, smaller, his eyes pale but calm – there was no trace of the intense, haughty spirit he remembered. When thinking of Avon nowadays, he could not forget the anguish in the man's eyes at their last encounter. He was relieved to see the familiar stoic demeanour as a reaction to the hostility around him. Just like old times – Avon’s own special defence against fear.

"They think you are my assassin."

"Well, aren't I?"

"They would like me to kill you right here on the spot."

"Why don't you?” There was a challenging glance in Avon’s eyes - a little too eager. "That's the whole point of my being here, isn't it?"

"Not really. I have other plans for you."

"Do you?" His voice was indifferent but Blake didn't fail to notice a hint of insecurity. "Since when did I become your property?"

"Since the moment you shot me."

That hurt.

He saw it in those dark eyes. It was meant to hurt. Blake felt the old antagonism fully return like a fit of bad temper. He'd believed himself past revenge, thought he'd properly dealt with it during the months of his recovery. But upon seeing his nemesis in person, those beliefs snapped like a match between his fingers.

"I almost died, Avon."

"That was the idea."

Blake took a moment to observe him, but there was no remorse there. No obvious guilt about what he'd done. Avon was not going to allow him to tear down the shields he had installed around his soul, but to his annoyance he noted how his own walls were crumbling under the emotions that were boiling just under the surface.

"Why couldn't you trust me, Avon?"

"Does it matter? What's done is done. Now why don't you get on with it and finish what you couldn't finish last night."

Blake flinched and Avon knew his guess was right. It had been him last night.

"I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding a suitable volunteer.” He surveyed the crowd of spectators and fixed his gaze on the tall man behind Blake, whose eyes were steadily aimed at the new arrivals. He was probably the right hand man; vigilant, loyal – the perfect candidate for the job. “I’m sure you can find someone to do it for you."

He gave Blake a complacent smile when that last remark hit home.

"I'm not letting you off that easy." said Blake, thrown off by the ease with which Avon succeeded in antagonizing him. It was an old familiar feeling that gave rise to a long-cherished desire to wipe the floor with him. Blake took a deep breath in an effort to contain his anger before speaking again. A habit he’d developed when dealing with the likes of Avon. But then again, he had never met anyone who was like Avon.

"What did you do all this time in Servalan's care?"

"I taught her how to build a space ship with teleport capability, energy efficient force walls and self-regenerating energy banks."

An honest answer to a straight-forward question. Avon’s deadpan attitude didn’t reveal the slightest trace of shame or guilt about the obvious treason within those words.

"And ORAC?"

"What about ORAC?"

"You didn't give her ORAC, did you?"

"ORAC was destroyed in the crash."

Blake noted the blank expression on Avon’s face. He had seen that look too many times in the past. A bright smile appeared around his lips and his eyes began to twinkle.

"You're lying, Avon. You never were a good liar."

"Are you certain? You were always a frightfully bad judge of character."

"My men would love to torture you a bit for what you've done." Blake continued conversationally. "I'm sure I can give them what they want under the pretence of a thorough interrogation."

He locked eyes with Avon, only to discover that his threat didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow.

"I see you took some lessons in ruthlessness.” Avon said with a half-smile. “Good for you. You were sorely lacking in that department."

Suddenly he moved forward. The manoeuvre took Blake completely by surprise and it was purely an automatic reaction that he caught the man in his arms. The immediate agitation around them confused him for a second until he realised what it meant.

"Easy!" Blake warned, secretly thanking Kilmonis that he hadn't trained his men to be too trigger happy. At least a dozen guns were aimed their way - behind them the tense faces of his followers fully intend on shooting. Luckily they also realized that there was not much harm a man could do with his hands shackled behind his back.

Avon grunted in pain while he did best to regain some control over the muscles in his legs. Blake's quick reaction had prevented him from falling face first in the dirt. He held him in his arms and for a brief moment their eyes met and they shared the same déjà vu. It was a perfect reversal of their last encounter - only Avon was not dying, like Blake had.

Rhi cautiously made her way through the spectators; very aware of the tense situation. "It happens sometimes." she explained. "It's some kind of cramp in his legs."

She positioned herself between Avon and Kilmonis, who had his weapon aimed at the man's head. Blake released him when she wrapped her arm around Avon's waist. The tech straightened up as the pain subsided and when she was sure he was capable of standing on his own, Rhi let go of him. Blake concluded that she was obviously aware of Avon's aversion to physical contact.

"He needs medical care.”

There was a hint of urgency in her voice. Blake wondered where that came from. He knew of the psychological phenomenon of empathy, sympathy even, between hostages and their abductors, but between Avon and the mercenary, the opposite seemed to be the case. Very strange, considering her reputation. He broke off his train of thought when he saw Avon bite his lip in pain. He signalled his men to put away their weapons and sought out Kilmonis.

"Take him to doctor Beauvy."

Stewart Kilmonis didn't like the way that sounded, for all the bystanders to hear. Blake's voice was full of concern. The soldier did not understand these feelings of compassion for someone that caused Blake so much misery.

"Watch him closely, Stewart.” Blake warned. “He might seem weak, but the Avon I know is very resourceful. We'll interrogate him when he's been at the doctor's." He fixed Avon with a glare to ensure that he understood that he was dead serious. “I want ORAC. And you're going to tell me where it is."

Avon’s eyes wandered wearily from Blake to Rhi. She had saved him from prison, had given him a brief, limited taste of freedom only to deliver him to a new prison and new interrogators.


	4. Chapter 4

After congratulating Rhi on her catch, Blake lingered for a moment to witness her happy reunion with Mare but his mind kept wandering. Avon's return affected him deeply. He had seen the black void in his gaze before the guards marched him off. He wondered what those eyes had seen in all those years they had been apart.

The rebel leader quietly moved away. He needed to be alone to gather his thoughts. True, he had always hoped that someday a clever bounty hunter would deliver Avon, but now that it had really happened he was somewhat at a loss. He had his position to consider and would have to put the man on trial, which would ultimately result in his execution. That's what every rebel in the camp would demand. Justice should prevail, no matter what the cost.

He was already halfway down the path to his cabin when he felt a pair of eyes burning in his back. He turned around to face his stalker.

"Is there something you want?"

It was Rhi and it occurred to him that she probably wanted to claim her fee.

“Can I speak to you?” she asked.

“Of course.” With a gesture he invited her to walk with him. “What’s this about?”

"I was wondering what your plans are. I didn’t save the man from the clutches of the Federation only to put him in the same position here."

"Then why didn't you set him free?” Blake asked, somewhat surprised by her statement. ”You must have known that his life wouldn't be worth a penny here."

"I delivered him to you because I thought that might prevent an execution."

Now there was a real surprise. A professional bounty hunter who cared about her catch?

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"He was your friend."

"Avon and I were not exactly friends."

"Then why did he keep searching for you all these years when you left the Liberator? And why did you put an enormous price on his head which expires the moment he dies?"

No one had ever questioned that condition before. Blake had made sure that whoever wanted to collect the reward, would not just deliver a dead body. He wanted Avon alive.

"Why does it concern you what happens to him?"

"He doesn't deserve to go through what he went through on Cendus once again."

Her answer was evasive, but he let her get away with it for now. There was more to this perceptive woman than she was willing to show.

"I guess the rumours about him living a life of luxury were not true then."

"I was his guard for almost a year. He was not just another prisoner, he was less than that. He didn't exist. They robbed him of everything. Of his freedom, his name, his privacy, his identity....he didn't even have control over his own body, because they implanted a knee lock."

Rhi’s blood boiled at the memory of the guards teasing the prisoner with their remote controls, making him squirm and scream by sending jolts of electricity through his legs with the simple push of a button. In her line of business, she had no trouble accepting that torture was a necessary evil to extract information but tormenting people just for the fun of it was despicable. It had taken an act of will to keep from interfering but she’d endured her darkest moments when circumstances demanded her actual participation.

"He either deserves a quick death or his freedom." she said, pushing that shameful memory far away.

"That's not your decision to make. You'll get paid anyway."

The lines in her face hardened; the mention of her fee almost seemed to offend her.

"I'm just surprised that you simply dismiss all the good Kerr Avon has done for your cause. Have you forgotten how he risked his life when he disarmed the bomb on Albion? Saved a whole planet, didn't he?"

Blake gave her a puzzled look. He had never understood Avon's rare fit of heroism on Albion and always suspected that the man who had been down there with him, was somehow responsible for this extraordinary act of self-sacrifice. Maybe Del Grant had left him no choice; had forced him to stay and finish the job. Or maybe Grant had somehow triggered a sensitive streak in this selfish man. It was so unlike Avon to risk his life for complete strangers.

"And from what I understand, it was Avon who engaged the Andromedans in their first battle, held them off for as long as he could."

"For someone who doesn't care about the Cause, you sure know a lot about it."

"Good research keeps me alive."

"So it does."

"You should know that Avon shall try to antagonize the guards and interrogators."

Blake chuckled. "That feature is embedded in the man's DNA. Tell me something I don't know yet."

"He seeks confrontation because he wants to die."

Blake refused to believe that Avon had given up and wanted to die. Avon was not like that. He would not give up on himself; the man was too selfish for that - and too resourceful.

"You were his guard. Did he antagonize you?"

"You should know that he nearly succeeded in getting himself beaten to death."

One look at her and he knew that was all the answer he would get. She would only volunteer information about her role as Avon's guard if it was relevant to achieving her aims - which was saving Avon’s life apparently.

“He’ll never tell you where this ORAC is because that’s his only way out. He probably hopes that some interrogator will hit him too hard one day.”

They had arrived at his cabin and Blake fixed her with an intent stare. This was indeed the most peculiar bounty hunter he had ever met. He knew nothing about her, had the distinct feeling she was holding back information, but there was something about her that inspired trust. He'd always had this sixth sense about people, like he’d had with Avon and Vila, while their criminal record did not exactly speak for them. He was confident that he read the telltale signs in this woman’s body language accurately. Rhi might have her own agenda, but she was Avon’s advocate - the only one in the world probably.

"All right, I understand what you're trying to say. Avon will seize every opportunity to get himself killed, but..." he hesitated, then took her arm and led her inside, away from the prying eyes around them.

There within the four walls of his cabin, he decided to confide in her. A complete stranger, but she was there when he needed to finally speak to someone about this. Kilmonis would never understand. Emma Beauvy would probe too much in order to want to understand. Therefore he'd always kept his thoughts on the subject of Kerr Avon to himself, but now he needed to get it off his chest and this woman seemed to be on the same side.

" _I want him to live_. More than anything in the world."

Rhi was a bit taken aback by the sudden emotion in his voice and the intense need in his eyes. He must have felt her surprise, because he looked away.

"Damn the man!” He failed to keep his voice level when he continued, angry at first. “Why do you think I left the Liberator? I wanted them to live. I wanted _him_ to live. I set him free." He sank down in a chair and ran his fingers through his hair in a frustrated motion. "I cannot just...let him go now.”

Rhi saw the hurt in the man's eyes and understood that it was probably one of the hardest things Roj Blake had ever done in his life: setting his crew free and choosing a path without them. And now he was faced with an even bigger dilemma - how to save Avon and himself from another disaster.

“I can’t just let him walk away after what he did to me. My status doesn't allow it. No one would understand. "

"Letting him walk away will most certainly be the end of him.” Rhi assured him. “He is dead set on getting himself killed."

"Why? What happened in that prison?"

"Rumour has it that he had a death wish long before he was imprisoned, but I'm sure Carnell's experiments didn’t do him much good either."

"So what you're saying is we might as well give up trying?"

"I'm saying there might be another way to change his mind."

She went out for a moment and Blake was surprised to see her return in the company of the little girl. Mare was apprehensive and held Rhi's hand firmly - Blake didn't exactly look like the friendly neighbour next door in the shady light in the little cabin. The scar on his face seemed to have a life of its own and even to the child it was obvious that this was not a happy man.

"This is Mare."

Blake didn’t know what to make of this. He had been introduced to the girl when Rhi had brought her to the camp last spring. Why the formal introduction now?

He smiled at her, which seemed to put her more at ease because she held out her hand to shake his. "Hello."

He took it and never let go when Rhi spoke.

"Mare is the daughter of Anna Grant and Kerr Avon."


	5. Chapter 5

Nine years as a doctor in the resistance had hardened Emma Beauvy to the sight of violent death but she could never get used to that devastating feeling of despair when a patient's life slipped through her hands. Blake had been one of those patients. As reluctant as she was to admit it, if Kilmonis hadn't snatched him away from her and brought him to the woods, he would never have survived another night. God knows she had tried to work miracles, but his injuries had been beyond repair. Whatever was done outside her regular medical care had saved the rebel's life. Kerr Avon had shot to kill and according to her knowledge of the human body he had succeeded admirably.

When she suddenly stood eye to eye with the man who had pulled the trigger, her initial feeling was one of surprise. Avon was much smaller than she’d imagined. Like most villains in legendary tales, the one in this particular story had also been endowed with extraordinary features. But he didn't look all that impressive; a slender man, dressed in a smudgy shirt and worn out pants. The fact that he had buttoned up the shirt to the collar and didn't wear his sleeves rolled up like most men in the camp, told Emma that he had an eye for decorum - an ingrained subconscious habit, he'd applied to his second-hand clothes.

It was the look on his face that really unsettled her. The deep-set eyes watching her from underneath the lashes brought about a cold, dismal feeling inside her belly. She had seen eyes like that before – the dangerous, callous gaze of those who had lost their soul.

Emma patiently watched how Kilmonis placed his prisoner beside the examination table and unlocked the handcuff on his left wrist. The fact that he chained him to it seemed to amuse him. The doctor detected a slight smile and noticed small wrinkles around the man’s eyes and finely chiselled mouth. A clear sign of the happier times he had obviously known.

"He wants him looked at." was all Kilmonis said before he retreated a few steps to stand beside the door.

Emma didn't speak to her patient during the examination and Kerr Avon was blessedly silent. She treated him like she would any other new arrival. A physical examination had become routine procedure before welcoming allies in their midst. They were still too vulnerable to be able to afford an outbreak of even the simplest disease. There was a shortage of medically trained personnel, not to mention a lack of medicine and equipment. Topping the list of Dr. Beauvy's wishes was a hand-scan which could quickly detect a whole range of malfunctions without ever having to touch the patient. Until this handy little gadget arrived, she was forced to examine her patients the old fashioned way.

The prisoner allowed the scrutiny on his person without objecting, but she felt him tense up the moment an invisible boundary was crossed when she started unbuttoning his shirt. She examined the pale body underneath; a striking contrast with his face, where hints of a sun tan were already visible. Gauda Prime did that to you, however short your visit was. He broke the silence when she gently started probing his ribs.

"Would you stop poking my ribs? The trouble is in my legs, not up here."

"Be quiet."

She ignored his icy look and continued her examination, surprised to find numerous bruises and scars on his torso that couldn't be as old as the Gauda Prime massacre. It was a contradiction to the rumours about the traitor who had shot Blake: rumours about leading a life of luxury under the protection of Servalan.

Avon watched her while she jotted down some words on her notepad. When she took a penlight and approached him to test his pupillary response, he locked eyes with her. The sudden closeness was stifling - she picked up on his musky scent, mixed with the smell of grass and horses. The ink black eyes drew her in and an indiscriminate sinking feeling crept up her spine.

"Are you the one who brought Blake back to life?" he asked, breaking the silence between them that had suddenly become awkward.

She placed her fingers on his forehead to make sure he wouldn't move and examined his left eye.

"I tried but didn't succeed."

"I would like to see your successes then."

"Blake was cured by the powers of Ga-ii." she said while concentrating on his other eye. “He was beyond regular medical care.”

He gave her a scornful smile. "A doctor who believes in potions and chants - how novel."

Annoyed, she increased the distance between them and put the flashlight next to her notepad on the table.

"No, I don't believe in potions and chants but I do believe what I see. I can't explain it. You did an expert job. Blake should've died."

The lines in his face hardened again. Emma Beauvy was not pleased with herself. After mere minutes in the presence of this man, she’d already lost her temper. That didn't bode well for the rest of the session. When she reached out for her pen and didn't find it next to her notepad, her sub-conscience yelled out in alarm.

Too late.

Avon grabbed her with one fast move and pulled her into a strangling embrace. With his free arm around her throat he hauled her off her feet. In a flash she discovered the item she had been looking for in his cuffed hand and then there was the sharp sting in her skin against the throbbing carotid artery in her neck.

"I will kill her if you come any closer." Avon warned Kilmonis, who was only two steps away from them now, his stun-gun steadily aimed at Avon's head.

"Let her go."

"I will," Avon assured him. "after you've given me your gun."

"You will never get out of the camp alive." Kilmonis warned.

"Well, now that's exactly what I'm trying to achieve." Avon said wearily. "Give me your gun and I'll give you back your physician."

"So, you can kill yourself?"

"Naturally."

As a professional soldier, Kilmonis knew how much damage a harmless little pen could do and the only doctor that was capable of treating the wound quickly would be out of action.

"I’ve been trying to leave this sorry existence for some time now," Avon said. ”I know you would rather execute me in public, but I've never been one for crowds. Let me die here and now. Give me my dignity. The result is the same."

"I could agree to shoot you, if you let go of the doctor." Kilmonis suggested. He would worry about explaining that to Blake later. "No one would blame me if they hear what happened."

Avon watched him while he contemplated the suggestion. Kilmonis struck him as a man of quick and simple solutions. Avon had not failed to notice the uneasiness in his manner about Blake's way of dealing with his assassin. The soldier would probably welcome the opportunity to rid them of the dilemma that was the cause of so many contradictory emotions in their leader.

"I think not." Avon said and pressed the tip of the pen harder into the soft flesh of his victim.

Emma steeled herself against the sting and felt how a small, warm bead of fluid slowly trickled down her neck. "Give your weapon to the good doctor, please."

Kilmonis hesitated a moment, but then he handed his weapon to Emma, a mixture of anger and impotence in his expression.

"Now leave."

"And the doctor?"

"Give us an hour" Avon said. "I still have some use for her."

Kilmonis cursed between his teeth, but he complied. He knew when it was time to retreat.

"I wouldn't hurry over to Blake right away to tell him what's happening here." Avon said and waited for Kilmonis to look at him. "Stall him for an hour and your problems will be solved."

Kilmonis nodded in silent understanding before he moved to the door.

When he was gone, Avon took the gun from the doctor and released her. She sank down on her knees, catching her breath, heart thudding in her chest. When she looked up at him she found herself staring into the barrel of the gun. Behind it, Kerr Avon was appraising her.

"I don't suppose you would shoot someone, would you?"

The look on her face was all the answer he needed. Avon raised the gun, took aim and freed himself from the handcuffs with one shot. He told Emma to lock the door and quickly scanned his surroundings. There was only one window in the infirmary, but the shutters were closed from the inside.

"Get me a scalpel." he told her when he heard the door lock.

Emma went to the cabinet where she kept her medical instruments and found what he'd asked for. She reluctantly returned to the armed man and gave him the item.

"Get down." he said, gesturing to the floor.

She sank down on her knees before him and froze in horror when he put the barrel of the gun on her forehead.

"I won't harm you if you do as I say." he said and lowered to gun. He handed her the scalpel, rolled up his sleeves and put one arm on his knee in front of her. "Now cut."

She looked up to him in utter confusion.

"You want me to slit your wrists for you?"

"Just do it!"

"Do it yourself."

Emma could not easily be intimidated into doing something that clashed with her principles. She couldn't believe what he was asking her. If the man wanted to commit suicide he should bloody well do it himself.

"I can't woman!" he snarled with a desperate twist in his voice. "Now do as I say or I _will_ shoot you."

The malignant flash in his eyes told her that these might very well be her last moments among the living. He left her no choice. She straightened up and placed the blade on the side of his wrist just above a large pink scar. He stopped her before she made the incision.

"Not like that. You know not to cut horizontally."

Emma gave up her attempt to deceive him and placed the scalpel further up, on the blue vein that was easy to spot on his lean forearm. With a skilled hand she guided the sharp blade through flesh, cutting the entire length of the blood vessel, releasing dark red fluid on pale skin. It ran over his knee, disappeared into the fabric of his black trousers, stained her hands that were trembling by now. He took the weapon in the other hand and offered his right arm. Without another word she repeated the procedure.

"Where's your blood supply?" he asked when she was done.

"We have no blood supply."

"I suppose Blake has attracted enough idealists who'll volunteer buckets of blood if needed." he said, a resigned smile on his lips.

"We look out for each other."

"How many men will line up for me?"

"Blake might."

That made him laugh. "Yes, I believe he actually would, so he can have me properly executed in front of the crowd. Blake is always at his best when there is an audience."

"Has it occurred to you that he might actually care what happens to you?" said Emma irritated.

"Don't bother." Avon clearly didn't want to go there. "He's got the wrong blood type."

He briefly closed his eyes to fight off a feeling of dizziness. By now he was completely covered in blood. Beside him, a deep red stain had appeared on the white sheet of the examination table. He watched it dripping on the floor and noticed how it had ruined the doctor's trousers.

"I'm sorry about that."

Avon lowered himself down on the floor, shifting a bit until he found a comfortable position to sit in. He felt drowsy but tried to focus on the woman before him. She was older than him and had probably seen her share of bad in the world. The glimpse of impotence he detected in her eyes caused a pang of guilt about forcing her into this.

"How many deaths have you witnessed, doctor?"

"I don't watch people die." Emma replied. "Dying, like love, is a very private matter."

"Well, as Blake has undoubtedly told you, I do treasure my privacy."

He pulled her nearer and made her turn around to sit in the space between his legs. With his free arm he held her close against him. The hand with the gun rested on her lap, pointing dangerously upwards toward her chest. A precaution in case he would pass out too soon. If he did, she would probably startle him into consciousness when she tried to entangle herself from the awkward embrace.

Doctor Beauvy fully understood what he was doing. He'd obviously tried to take his life before and failed. By keeping close body contact, Avon could detect everything she did. Time was all it took and he was not about to let her ruin his second attempt. He could pass out along the way but she had no other option than sit with him and wait it out.

It was an odd experience. His breathing was almost soothing and the occasional spasm in his extremities very inappropriately reminded her of a former lover, just before sleep claimed him. Even the coppery scent of blood did not lead to the usual rush of adrenaline in her system. Their clothes were drenched as the life steadily flowed from his veins. His head was resting on her shoulder now: she was acutely aware of the whiff of breath against her ear. Slowly she allowed herself to fully lean back against him, relaxing the strained muscles she had used to avoid contact before. When he pulled her close, their bodies intertwined in a tentative embrace, her heart rate seemed to match the slow-moving rhythm of his pulse. It was the most intimate thing that ever happened to her and most disturbing at the same time.

Just when she thought that he’d passed out, he spoke - his voice soft and pleasant against her ear.

"Tell me about Blake."

"What do you want to know?"

He seemed uncertain at first. Maybe there were too many questions and too little time. He was shivering. Soon he would feel chilly and cold and then he would pass out - hopefully without any sudden struggles to keep awake. That's when he would be most dangerous to her. That's when his muscles might contract and pull the trigger. She glanced down at the gun. It was set on the highest level.

"Nothing in particular." he said finally. "Just .... talk. You have a nice voice"

And Emma started talking. She told him how she had met Blake, told him about his efforts to unite the resistance groups that were scattered throughout the galaxy. About the pleasant evenings they spent together, about the day he almost died on her and about his miraculous recovery. She talked and talked until her voice had been reduced to an inaudible whisper and she finally was sure that the man behind her had stopped moving altogether.


	6. Chapter 6

"Can I have my hand back please?"

Blake couldn't keep himself from staring at the innocent young face before him. The big brown eyes reflected the setting sun that cast its last shimmer through the window of his cabin. They hypnotized him - seemed to want to burn a mark straight into his heart.

Kerr Avon's daughter. Who would have thought?

When the girl shifted uncomfortably, he let go of her hand and tore his eyes away. He’d only vaguely registered Rhi's words. Something about feeling responsible for the child, even though they were not sisters.

"Avon never told us of a child."

"He wouldn't have." Rhi said. "He didn't .... doesn't know"

"My mother and I lived in the house of Chesku." the girl explained. ”My mother went to live there after Avon was arrested. He never contacted mother again, not even when he was safely on board that rebel spaceship with you."

Blake regarded her, wondering exactly how much Anna Grant had told her loved ones about that shady part of her life. Her daughter was obviously unaware of the fact that Avon was convinced that Anna had died under Federation torture. It puzzled him that Avon's accomplice had apparently not only survived the ordeal, but she'd even been allowed to live a life in freedom with her family. The indefinable feeling in his stomach was hard to ignore, but he would deal with the details of this news later, in a proper debriefing with the mercenary - one he would be thoroughly prepared for.

"Have you always known about your real father?"

"Not until it was too late." Mare said in a steady and clear voice. There was no pain there, just a statement of fact. She retrieved a shiny trinket from around her neck and showed it to Blake. It was an oval shaped locket on a piece of string. On the front it said in tiny, elegant letters: _Last will and testament of Anna Grant_.

"There's a holograph-chip inside for my father."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize your mother was dead."

"She died in the raid on Residence One some years ago" said Rhi.

Blake looked from Rhi's stoic face to the little girl, who was positively beaming with pride on seeing his expression when they sprang that little surprise.

"I heard about that raid." Blake was duly impressed. "It was an impressive undertaking and they nearly succeeded too."

"Nearly was not enough." Rhi said in a tone that dampened Blake's enthusiasm. "She left a will in which she stated that Mare is not the daughter of Chesku but was the result of a brief relationship with Kerr Avon."

“How did Chesku take the news?"

"He died on the same day my mother was shot."

The total lack of emotion in that statement startled Blake. The words _I'm sorry to hear that_ didn't really make it across his lips. Apparently there was no love lost between the girl and her stepfather.

"Well, I'm honoured to be in the presence of the daughter of such brave people." Blake said with a playful little bow that made the girl giggle. "And I understand now, why you've come to Gauda Prime." When he subsequently addressed her 'sister' his voice became insistent. "But none of this explains why you put your life on the line to save a complete stranger."

Although she had expected the question, Rhi was a bit taken aback by the chill in Blake's eyes. She hadn't seen this side of him yet: the side that would never trust anyone completely again, the side that was born after the massacre of Gauda Prime.

"I did it for my niece."

Blake noticed the defensive streak in her voice. And there was something else he detected in those averting eyes. His instincts told him that she was hiding something.

"So, you two are actually related?”

"My father was Anna's brother. You met him. Del Grant?"

That name brought back memories. Of the successes they'd had with the Liberator crew. But it also added to the confusion. If he remembered correctly it was Del Grant who had told Avon of Anna's death. And here was his daughter delivering Anna Grant's child to her rightful father. A child that was obviously born after the mother's alleged death. Had the message of Anna's horrible fate been Del Grant's way of punishing Avon for involving his sister in the bank scheme? Or had he not known that she was alive? And how did Rhi fit into all of this? He would have to subject this elusive mercenary to a thorough interrogation. There were too many loose ends.

Blake did not question the identity of the little girl. A simple medical test would disclose the truth about that particular part of their story. He didn't expect any surprises there. No, the fact that the two people closest to Anna Grant - her brother Del and Avon - had been convinced that she'd died under Federation torture was the thing that bothered him the most. Rhi would have a lot of explaining to do.

"My father spoke very highly of you."

The puzzled look on Blake's face hadn't escaped Rhi’s attention, but she was confident that he would not probe on in the presence of the child.

"So, that's why you knew so much about Avon's part in saving Albion from the bomb."

"My father told us what happened. Avon saved my father’s life."

"And you decided to return the favour."

"Our family owed Avon. After Albion my father was a household name among resistance-groups throughout the galaxy. He had to turn down many offers, but business prospered."

"He must have earned enough money to retire." Blake ventured, always in search for good men to join his cause, but the shadow that clouded his daughter’s face told him that Grant hadn't been so lucky.

"He was injured a year after Albion. He’s lost the use of his legs."

There was a tense little silence. Mare had taken Rhi's hand and held it firmly.

"He would have gone for Avon himself." Rhi spoke with a slight clenching of the jaw. This time Blake fully understood why she averted her eyes: she didn't want him to see her pain. "Not only to pay his debt but he felt that Mare had a right to meet her father."

"I'm sure he will be very proud of you when he hears how you pulled this of."

"He'll be less proud when he hears that I have delivered Mare's father to his executioners."

Blake gave her a look.

"You know where I stand when it comes to Avon."

He was well aware of the fact that Rhi deliberately brought up that particular subject in front of the girl. Rhi knew very well that after being confronted with Avon's daughter in the flesh, he would not be able to harm the man - regardless of what circumstances required of the leader of the Revolution. That's why she had brought the girl along; as an extra insurance. A clear case of emotional blackmail - very clever.

"I know now that we have your support, but I seriously doubt if I've done the right thing. Considering the state he is in."

"The existence of a daughter sheds new light on the subject, don't you think?" Blake suggested with a hopeful glance at Mare. "Mare will be our trump card. If Avon learns that he is not entirely alone in the world and has a charge to take responsibility for, he might change his mind about.....leaving his earthly burdens."

He might be a selfish bastard, Blake thought, but blood ties go deep and even Avon would not be able to simply reject the responsibility for a vulnerable child. And if he had read the man accurately back then, he must have loved Anna Grant very much.

"Does my father want to die?" the girl asked.

Blake had rather hoped that his last words might be beyond the child's understanding but she proved him wrong. The fact that this six-year-old reacted so unlike a common child made him uneasy. She actually reminded him of her father. Avon used to have this uncanny ability to see right through him when he was not being entirely honest to his crew. His daughter had the same piercing dark eyes that bored right into him, demanding an answer. And by the look of it, she wouldn't tolerate a lie. Blake felt sorry for the child – a father with a death wish and a mother who had been shot in an attempt to overthrow the Federation.... not exactly ideal conditions for a good start in life.

Seeing Blake struggle for an answer, Rhi took over. She kneeled down beside her niece and gently stroked her hair. "He is in a bad way, Mare. They...... hurt him in prison."  

Rhi had never actually witnessed any of the sessions Avon was subjected to: as his night guard she had only seen the result of Carnell's work. Sometimes the damage was clearly visible and had to be endured, but the hidden injuries emerged when all men were most vulnerable: in sleep. And she seriously doubted if those wounds would ever heal.

"Will he be alright again?"

"Of course he will." Blake heard himself say with an air of confidence that didn't match his gut feeling. "And you're going to help us."

A child would perhaps be the best thing that ever happened in Avon's life, Blake thought. It might mellow him, bring out his softer side - make him finally open up to people. But Roj Blake couldn't for the life of him imagine Avon as a father. He tried to picture the man at the family dinner table or reading bedtime stories and playing hide and seek in the park - a futile effort. Blake only kept seeing those beady eyes..... dark and empty, as if they were already dead.


	7. Chapter 7

The thick fog that clouded his skull threatened to smother him, but he had enough presence of mind to realise that he hadn’t died and gone to hell. The throbbing pain in his head was so overwhelming that he nearly fainted when he tried to open his eyes. It took a few deep breaths to fend off the nausea, before he made another attempt. The world was a blur at first, but then he was able to focus and see.

White sheets, hospital bunk, wires attached to his chest, bright white bandages on both his wrists. There was a needle inserted into the artery on the inside of his left arm, slowly feeding him the fluid that was bringing him back to life.

His eyes drooped and finally fell shut to fight the swirling in his head. He gave himself a few seconds to recover before he opened them again. He had to see who was at the other end of the tube that was filling his veins with fresh blood. Blake must have forced one of his men to volunteer. He half expected to see a soldier in shackles beside him. When he was sure the dizziness was under control, he slowly turned his head sideways, found the needle in his skin and followed the dark tube to a lean, wiry arm that rested on the bed next to his.

Rhi.

The young woman had made herself comfortable on the bunk. She was reading a book, but Avon could tell that she’d been watching him from the moment he'd woken up. The routine of her days as a guard on Cendus had almost become second nature. As if she could read his thoughts, Rhi averted her eyes and turned another page.

Avon took a deep breath and with all the strength he could muster, he pulled out the needle from his vein. Quickly Rhi retrieved the tube that dangled beside the bed and blocked the blood flow so it wouldn’t make another big mess in doctor Beauvy’s ward.

“We’re almost done, Avon.” she said. “What do you hope to achieve?"

“What’s going on?” Doctor Beauvy approached and prepared to reconnect the link, but her patient feebly pushed her hands away.

“Don’t.” Avon breathed. “You could be killing us both.”

A disquieting feeling crept up Beauvy’s spine. What had she missed? She had been so busy trying to save Avon’s life -with an angry Blake breathing down her neck- that she hadn't taken the time to think about what he had done. The man might have had ulterior motives for slitting his wrists. She suddenly realised that the method of suicide he had chosen was rather odd, considering the circumstances. He could have forced her to finish him off in many different - and above all - faster ways.

“What do you mean?” Rhi asked, slightly alarmed by now.

“Examine my blood." Avon said before he passed out again.

 

 -

 

”How is he doing?”

Blake peered over doctor Beauvy’s shoulder, while she downloaded the test results to the data pad on her desk. He didn’t fail to notice her trembling fingers and his hand briefly touched her shoulder in a reassuring, comforting gesture.

“How are _you_  doing?”

“I’m fine. Nothing a good night’s sleep can’t cure.”

Blake could read her well enough by now, to know that this was an outright lie. What had occurred only hours ago in the safe environment of her medical ward had unsettled her more than she was willing to admit.

“How’s your general?” The change of subject was a subtle sign that she didn’t want to talk about the experience just yet.

“He’ll be more careful next time.” Blake said with a certainty that told her that he’d had a thorough heart-to-heart with his second in command.

“Well …” Emma studied the readings on her pad. “...there probably won’t be a next time.”

She stepped aside to allow Blake a clear view of the pad. She clicked on a picture and enlarged it.

“What am I looking at?”

“This is Kerr Avon’s blood.” Emma explained. “Notice the dark dots?”

“They’re hard to miss.”

There were dots all over the place. Emma enlarged one of them until the picture completely filled the screen. It was bullet-shaped, with two tiny tentacles at the front.

“What are they?”

“I’ll have to do some more tests, but it's my expert opinion that we’re looking at a nanocell of some sort. A highly modified specimen, I'd say. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“They’ve injected him with nanocells? “

“There dormant, so it'll take a lot more research before I can tell you what their function is. As you know the original nanocells were designed to repair the human body where the more traditional medical instruments do more damage than good.”

“The Federation are not exactly known for their gentle interrogation methods." Blake said with a wry smile. “Maybe it is standard procedure on Cendus to use the cells to repair injuries in between sessions.”

“That’s a possibility, but the cells can just as easily be programmed to destroy. I think Avon is convinced of the latter.”

“Is there any way of finding out what they do, before they are actually active?”

“I could run some more tests, but I really don't have the right equipment. It’ll mainly be guesswork, but I can tell you this: their numbers are increasing. They seem to be able to duplicate. The donor blood is already contaminated.”

“What about the donor herself?”

“I checked that. She’s clean. “

Blake was visibly relieved. The young woman had volunteered as soon as it was evident that she had the right blood type but Blake felt responsible if something were to happen to her. Rhi Grant was no longer just the mercenary he'd paid for delivering Avon. She was the guardian of Avon's only child and apart from that - he liked her.

“Do what you can to find out what these things are doing in his blood.” Blake said. "And while you're at it, check every inch of his anatomy for tracers or other stuff the Feds might have implanted. I'm sure Servalan tried all resources available in order to extract information from him."

"The psychostrategists must have had a field day with him." Emma said. She couldn’t forget the frustration in Avon's eyes when she first refused to slit his wrists. "He wasn't able to take his own life, Blake. They've placed some kind of psychological block in his brain that prevents him from harming himself."

"That's the way of the Federation." Blake said with a weary shake of his head. "They want full control."

"Don't forget where they were hiding him all this time. Carnell is Lord and Master in the main prison facility on Cendus. You might have just opened the door to let in the proverbial wolf in sheep's clothing."

"That's why I need you to examine him thoroughly. Turn him inside out if you have to."

“I will. But it will take time. There is a faster way to find out about the cells, though.”

“Which is?”

"Ask Avon when he wakes up. I'm sure Carnell gave him a detailed explanation of what those cells are for."


	8. Chapter 8

Sleep was not a welcome escape from reality. The past year, the nightmare of Blake being devoured by maggots and insects was replaced by other, very vivid and distressing dreams. There was excessive torture and he was at the receiving end of it. Waking up was not a relief, because he knew one thing for certain: the dreams were not mere figments of his imagination. They contained flashbacks, taken directly from the memory banks in his brain.

When he woke up in a cold sweat that afternoon, he was convinced that he was still trapped inside the nightmare. Before him stood the man who had just been flogging him with a passion. The sound of the lash was still battering his ears and the nauseating smell of blood lingered in the air.

"How are we feeling?" The concerned voice formed an eerie contrast to the way the man had yelled at him only moments ago when he'd been counting off lashes.

Avon sat bolt upright in bed, his heart pounding painfully fast as he looked straight into the eyes of his tormentor. _He_ was always there in his nightmares.

When he was confronted with Blake yesterday, he was fully prepared for the occasion. He'd steeled himself for the experience and to his relief had found it easy to face the man. But this time he was caught off guard, discombobulated from the nightmare, disorientated and nauseous. His throat was parched, voice embarrassingly weak when he was finally able to force some words from his mouth.

"Alive, apparently."

”That’s the way I like you best.” Blake said, trying hard to sound light-hearted. He made a point of not noticing Avon’s weakened state, but it affected him deeply to see the habitually proud man like this - his hair tousled and curled up against his sweaty forehead, a soaked hospital shirt clinging to his torso, the ragged breathing a sure sign that he was fighting a bout of hyperventilation. But the thing that struck Blake most was that the fear in Avon’s eyes only seemed to be aggravated by his presence.

"Having bad dreams?" he ventured. It was probably not the most intelligent question to ask a man who'd just tried to commit suicide.

Avon coughed and steadied his nerves with a few deep breaths, all the time glaring at his visitor as if he’d grown another head.

"What do you want Blake?" he asked.

The chill in his eyes killed every shred of compassion Blake might have felt. Avon had not changed in that respect; still pushed away the hand of friendship.

"I want to know what they did to you on Cendus.” Blake said matter-of-factly. “ I need to know if you’re a liability for the safety of my people."

" _Your_ people?” Avon said. “Who made you king?"

Blake ignored the sneer in his voice, secretly pleased that the old Avon was still in there somewhere. His shell dishevelled, but the core of him intact.

"We searched for homing devices and other electronics in your body, but the only thing we found were tiny pieces of residue of the knee-lock in your legs. Rhi told us that she was able to remove the lock after your escape. Doctor Beauvy performed the finishing touch this morning."

Avon vividly remembered the makeshift operation Rhi carried out on his legs. The knee-lock had automatically been triggered by the alarmsystem in the prison as soon as their escape was discovered. A disabled man was of no use on the run, so his former guard had pushed a piece of wood between his teeth and made the first incision without so much as a warning or any form of anesthetics. It was not an experience he would care to repeat. He looked at his bandaged legs that peaked out from under the sheets and gave Blake a questioning look.

“Bandages and band aids? “ He obviously didn’t think much of the poorly equipped medical facilities in his new prison.

Blake didn’t take the bait. He was determined not to let Avon provoke him into their old routine of bickering.

"The doctor is confident that the strength in your legs will be fully restored in a few days.”

"Marvellous." Avon gave the restraints that secured him to the bed poles a tug. ”I’ll make a run for it in a couple of days then."

Knowing Avon would appreciate the gesture, Blake casually pulled the sheets over his legs, which immediately made the other tense up again. This time the rebel leader looked straight at him while he slowly perched himself on the side of the bed, demanding an explanation he knew he was not likely to get. Avon watched him warily, painfully aware that he was pulling at his restraints, snared like a rabbit.

Blake was overwhelmed by a wave of impotence at the sight of real fear in those dark eyes. He told himself that it had to be some sort of post traumatic stress as a result of his incarceration. _It has nothing to do with me._ After all, there was nothing in their past that could evoke such fear, was there? There were question burning on his lips, but he cowardly avoided the issue for now.

"What we did find was the reason for your foolish suicide attempt."

He was met with total silence.

"It was unforgivable what you did to doctor Beauvy. You had no right to put her through what you did."

"Don't be such a wimp, Blake." Avon scolded. "She's a doctor and your.... people , as you call them, seem to be at war. I'm sure she's seen more than her share of excesses."

"Yes, she has." Blake said. ”We’re lucky to have her. She’s the one who saved my life after....." He could not bring himself to say it in front of Avon.

Avon had no such reservations. "After I shot you."

There was an awkward silence in which their eyes met. Blake was unable to look away; searching for a sign that would reveal how the other really felt about what had happened back then. But there was no remorse there, the eyes cold and dispassionate now, whereas Blake did his best not to show the hurt and the anger inside him. There was so much to say, so much to sort out, but Avon was not exactly in a talkative mood the way things were between them. Back to the issue at hand was the best course of action.

"We know that they injected you with nanocells."

Avon looked away.

"We just don't know why."

"Didn't your brilliant physician find that out for you?"

"Oh she will, eventually. She just thought you might be able to give us the answer to that question a whole lot quicker."

"Why would she think that?"

"Avon..." Blake paused a moment to find the right words. Avon was never a man who appreciated being pitied and in his current state of mind, Blake was not sure of anything anymore. Where he was once capable of predicting exactly how the man would react, he was now at a loss. "We know that you were in the care of Carnell all this time."

Avon cringed back in the pillows, his dark eyes flickering dangerously.

"Doctor Beauvy assumed that if Carnell injected you with those cells he probably told you why, just to humiliate you. Psychological warfare is after all his expertise."

"Strange that you would use the word care in this case." Avon stated, sarcasm dripping like acid from every syllable. "Our language has a great many words for what I experienced at the hands of that demented psychopath - care is not one of them."

Blake shifted uneasily on the bed. Rhi had given him bits of information about the prison and the picture was completed by the full account of Doctor Beauvy's report on the physical condition of their prisoner. Avon bore all the trademarks of maltreatment and abuse. Blake had stopped reading the doctor's report when he became physically ill at the thought of the tortures that had to be inflicted upon him.

"I know. I’m sorry. He...." Blake hesitated. It hadn’t been his intention to touch on this particular subject. "... he tortured you."

" _He_ never tortured me."

Blake’s breath stilled at the look of pure hate in Avon’s eyes. In that moment he realised that Avon was perfectly capable of killing him - again. Emma Beauvy's remark about the wolf in sheep's clothing might not have been far off the mark. Carnell's experts could have conditioned Avon to murder him and wreak havoc among the rebels. The Federation knew by now that he was alive. He didm’t put it beyond Servalan to devise a complicated plan to let Avon escape - after having milked him thoroughly for all his knowledge - knowing full well he would end up in the new rebel camp one day, whether as an ally or a prisoner. His status would be of minor importance. It would get him close enough to kill. Blake shuddered at the thought what they'd done to a stubborn, proud Alpha like Avon in order to break his will.

"It's okay, Avon." Blake said, not wanting to upset him further. “You have every right to be angry. I can only tell you that whatever you said or did to avoid torture will not be held against you. You're only human. Holding out for five days is quite something else than suffering prolonged torture without any prospect of rescue."

"Come again?" Avon sat up, briefly shutting his eyes against a wave of vertigo. It would take a while before the effects of the blood loss would wear off.

"I said that I don't care what they made you do under torture. You're not a superhu......"

" _The five days._ " Avon cut in. "How do you know about that?"

For a moment Blake didn't understand.

"You couldn't have known about that unless...."

".....somebody told me.” Blake smiled; relieved to see a pair of questioning eyes upon him instead of the murderous look that had taken possession of the man moments before. "Someone who is not good at keeping secrets."

"Who?" Avon wanted to know. "They were all killed in the tracking gallery. I saw them die."

"Appearances can be deceiving." Blake rose from the bed and held his arms out to prove his statement. "You saw me die didn't you?"

"Who survived?"

"Well, I'm sure you already know the answer to that question." Blake replied with a quizzical look. "Which of your crewmembers was least likely to get himself out of trouble without any help from his friends?


	9. Chapter 9

"I swear I didn't touch a drop."

Vila sat on the examination table in Beauvy's treatment room, emphatically ignoring the look of scepticism from the doctor who immediately took a step closer in the hope to prove him wrong. The fact that Vila didn't smell of alcohol, did not convince Emma that he was telling the truth. His breath had a strong minty smell that could very well cover up the evidence.

"Medicine is for the sick, Vila, not for those of us who conveniently choose to forget that the consumption of alcoholic beverages leads to a hangover."

"I'm having a headache, doctor. Believe me, I know the difference. Training people can be very stressful. If you want to blame anyone for my current condition then you should blame Blake. Not a night on the town."

Fat chance of ever getting an opportunity to spend a night on the town around here, Vila thought bitterly. He did not thrive in an environment of bushes and shrubs. He longed for the liveliness of the city with plenty of people and a choice of nice bars and restaurants. Instead he was forced to live in a boring hide-out deep in the forests of Gauda Prime. The total absence of alcohol of any kind had forced Vila to learn to make is his own brew. He was proud to have perfected the process, but longed for some variety in his drinks.

"I'm glad that you are finally doing some honest work." the doctor said. "I'm sure that once you get the hang of it, the side effects will disappear."

"Very funny." Vila tried to sound offended but didn't really manage. He had never been ashamed of the fact that he’d been dodging honest work most of his life. “I’ve hardly any time left for myself these days. And you of all people should know that it is very important to relax after a hard day's work."

"...of picking locks"

"A skill that takes a lot of practice and finesse." Vila pointed out. ”And Blake will be on my back if these fellows don’t know their business when the time comes. Mind you, I have already established that none of them show any sign of talent or respect for the craft."

"That's probably due to the fact that they have been a victim of those who are very skilled in this field, Vila." Emma said, although she was well aware of the fact that many of the new rebels in the camp were not exactly notorious for their good conduct. "Most people here don't take kindly to thieves."

"Unless they need them for their righteous cause." Vila countered.

The doctor walked over to the medicine cabinet and opened it with her key, suddenly realising that a lock was totally useless with people like Vila in the camp. She found the tablets and handed them to her patient with a glass of water.

"Down the hatch.” she said. "It'll relieve the _pain_ in your head."

Vila did not take offence to her mild sarcasm. For once he really had a headache and was glad for her help. When he swallowed the pills, he cast a glance towards the infirmary where they kept the new arrival - which was of course the main reason for his visit.

"I heard what happened to you yesterday." he said quietly. "Are you all right?"

Emma Beauvy was touched by the genuine concern in his voice. She could understand why Blake liked the man, despite his many flaws. Even Emma had come to grow fond of the thief with his infectious sense of humour. Vila's heart was in the right place and she could sense that there was more to him than the uncomplicated manner he displayed in public.

"Yes I'm fine." she assured him. ”Kilmonis had the fright of his life, though. His pride has taken a direct hit. I doubt if he will ever recover."

"Serves him right." Vila snorted. ”Nasty piece of work, isn’t he? Never passes up an opportunity to let me know how inadequate I am. Good to know that there are actually people out there who can show him how inadequate anyone can be. Even him! Just depends on your adversary."

"Well, Kerr Avon succeeded admirably in doing that at least."

"How's he doing?"

"Recovering."

Vila was silent for a moment, trying to determine how he felt about Avon being back in their midst; about Avon being back with _Blake_. Theirs was never a smooth collaboration of minds and circumstances now were ... complicated, to say the least. The men in his lock picking class had discussed Kerr Avon this morning and they spoke of execution. They more or less expected this as closure to what had happened to their leader. Whatever the outcome, it would at least show Blake's qualities as a leader and the loyalty of his followers. And Avon was caught in the middle, like a helpless pawn in a deadly game of chess.

"What do you think will happen?" Vila queried, hoping Blake would have confided in the doctor.

"Well, that rather depends on Roj himself, and on the verdict of the Council I suppose. Avon tried to kill him. That’s an act of treason."

"Blake will never allow an execution." Vila said, self-assured. ”He hasn't got the heart. And if anyone is to blame for what happened in that tracking gallery, it's Blake himself. He should have known better."

"Well, I was not there to witness it all, ”Emma said." but I saw the result of what happened and I'd say that Avon's intentions were abundantly clear. It's a miracle that Roj survived the injuries."

"I was there. “Vila said. “ I know exactly what happened."

"Then tell me about it. You knew them when they were together on the Liberator. Why _did_ Avon shoot Blake?"

"There's a perfectly natural explanation for that."

"Really?” Emma said, raising an eyebrow. “You might consider explaining it to Roj.”

Blake always avoided that particular topic of conversation, but when it came up by chance she never failed to notice the sadness in his eyes. He was hurt because he didn't understand.

"No way." Vila said “Blake wouldn’t get it. Although it’s simple really - classic case of a crime of passion "

Emma Beauvy gaped at him - dumbfounded.

"A crime of pa.... “ she nearly choked on the word. ”Are you telling me they were a couple?"

Vila couldn’t help chuckling at that presumption. “Well, the way they were at it - quarrelling and bickering all day..... And they were both very much in love. Not with each other, though. Blake only loves his bloody cause and Avon is an egotistical, self serving bastard.” The way Vila said this somehow made it sound like it was the ultimate character trait in any human being. "Did you know he also tried to kill me once?"

Emma was still processing his first revelation and this little piece of information only added to her confusion about the complex relationships within that legendary band of rebels.

"Why?" she finally asked.

"Because I weigh 70 kilos"

He knew the moment he said it, that she would not take him seriously. She gave him a look, and Vila decided to have her believe that he was joking. He wished he was. Sometimes, when the alcohol in his blood played tricks on his mind, he would relive the horrible experience of Malodar. He would feel the fear that had paralysed him in his claustrophobic hide-out while Avon methodically searched the shuttle, calling his name in that sugary voice, making the whole experience even more disturbing. Avon never spoke to him like that and Vila hoped to never hear that particular voice ever again. He pushed the memory of Malodar far away and babbled on.

"Although Avon is convinced that he’s infallible, there is one massive flaw in his personality. He has this thing about Blake. Poor man, can't help himself and he hates himself for it. Hates Blake for it too. You can say a lot of bad things about our Avon, but in his own special, twisted, insane way, he was always loyal to Blake. His heart did not go out to the cause or the rabble we were trying to liberate - Avon couldn’t care less about that. No, he was loyal to Blake. Don’t ask me why, but despite all his resistance, the manipulation and the squabbling, he did his best to keep us safe and Blake in particular. And when he shot Blake, I'd say he was in a similar state of mind as a man who commits a crime of passion.”

"But ....” Doctor Beauvy struggled to understand. “..if he felt this way about Roj, then why did he try to kill him?"

Vila regarded her for a moment. It all seemed so blindingly obvious to him, but you had to have been there to understand and you would have to appreciate the trust issues that had led up to that disastrous reunion.

“Tell me doctor, how would you feel if you found out that the person, in whose spirit you did what was necessary all those years, while he was down here on Gauda Prime gallivanting around as a bounty hunter, had sold you to the Federation."

"But Blake didn't betray Avon." Emma countered.

"No he didn't.” Vila conceded. “What he did was lure Avon to his den and rely on the fact that everybody thinks that the great Blake is incorruptible and immune to Federation drugs and conditioning. That arrogance had gotten us into trouble before. How could he just assume that Avon would see through his stupid scheme? I sure as hell didn't! Did he expect us to give him a big hug and drink a cup of tea while we waited for the Feds to arrive? No, Blake handled the situation badly and Avon was in the wrong frame of mind."

"What was his frame mind, I wonder.” That question had been on her mind ever since it happened. “When you shoot an unarmed man you once called your friend?" Three times no less. That went beyond being thorough – _that_ was personal.

Vila knew only too well that Avon hadn’t been behaving like his normal nasty self in the months leading up to Gauda Prime. Things had gone downhill after that Shrinker business. Lord knows what the Federation did to him in those five days when he voluntarily allowed them to interrogate him. And then Avon got his long awaited revenge - and the little surprise life had in store for him when he found out who Bartholomew was, would have been enough to drive any sane man over the top. The final blow was delivered when Cally died - Avon just wasn’t the same after that. It would take a long evening with lots of wine to explain all that to the doctor, so Vila gave her the short version.

"We'd just barely survived the crash with Scorpio, we'd lost the ship, we'd lost our base, were hunted by almost everyone in the galaxy, friend and foe and up pops Blake, bounty hunter and collaborator, having Avon believe that he's sold him to the Feds. How stupid can you be?"

“If you put it like that....” Emma was still sceptical.

Vila realized that she had her doubts about his version of the truth, but she would soon be able to form her own opinion, now that the man was in her care. He only hoped that Avon would be among the living long enough for that to happen.

“Let’s hope they make better use of those little grey cells inside their thick heads this time.” he mused. “For Alphas they can be pretty dense.”

“Maybe they should shut down their little grey cells once in a while.” Emma suggested with a wry smile. “What’s that old saying - once more with feeling?”

Vila grinned at that. “Normally, that would be great advice, were it not that one of them tries very hard to deny that he has feelings at all, while the other lets them get in the way of commons sense. Disastrous combination, wouldn’t you say?”

He hopped off the examination table and prudently stretched the muscles in his neck.” Well, it’s back to work for me, I guess. Thanks for the medicine. I feel better all ready."

“I’m sure you do”

"You wouldn't happen to have a drop of soma in that medicine cabinet?"

Emma looked at him pointedly. “ I warn you Vila, I know exactly what's inside that cabinet, so if something is missing, I'll know where to find you."

"Doctor, I wouldn't dream of using my special talents on you."

On his way out Vila peered through the infirmary door. Behind a guard, who was obviously bored out of his mind, he caught a glimpse of the deathly pale figure on the bed. Avon’s eyes were shut and he looked completely innocent in his sleep - harmless and relaxed: a dead giveaway that the man was wide awake.

"Take care of him and don't mind the snarls and insults.” Vila said to Emma. “That's just his way of communicating. You'll grow to like it. Actually Avon has an enormous sense of humour, if only you learn to read between the lines."

"Don't you want to visit him?" Blake had strictly forbidden any visitors, but Emma was sure that he would make an exception for Vila.

"No, let him rest for a while. Avon's much more fun when he's healthy and sane." Vila respected the fact that Avon would resent it that anyone should see him in a weakened state, not to mention the humiliation of being tied to a bed. "Let him spend some time with the stupid fool that put them in this mess in the first place. I'm sure they’ll have some very nice conversations."

"But Vila, if you feel this way about Blake, then why do you stay with him?"

"No special reason.” Vila said. “I like him, I suppose. I know what I can expect. Blake respects me for my skills. Like you said; not many people take kindly to thieves. Most people avoid me - he doesn't."

"And what about Avon? Would you hook up with him again if he were a free man?"

"Avon?" Vila pondered this for a while and glanced back into the infirmary, where those dark eyes were now looking straight at him from underneath the lashes. Vila smiled when he discovered a lively twinkle in them, just before they fell shut. "Avon is the greatest thief I know. Come to think of it, the biggest mistake I ever made was introducing him to Blake back on the shuttle to Cygnus Alpha. If Avon and I had joined forces thieving back then, instead of wasting our talents on the revolution, we would have been rich beyond imagination."

Emma Beauvy took that as a yes.


	10. Chapter 10

A few days after his suicide attempt, Kerr Avon was deemed fit enough to be transferred to a holding cell, where he would await the verdict from the Council. Doctor Beauvy’s medical ward was not equipped to hold a prisoner. The small infirmary was crowded with guards and Blake would often pop in to see how Avon was doing. Instead of talking to Avon, he would linger in her office and keep her from her work. Emma was glad to see her patient go.

On the morning of Avon's discharge Blake came in with a neatly folded bundle of clothes.

“That is very considerate of you, Roj.” It had slipped her mind that her patient didn't own any clothes at all; the ones he’d worn on arrival were incinerated along with hers. "Don't you want to go in yourself this time?"

“Well, he is rather particular in the company he keeps these days.” Blake said with a painful smile that spoke volumes.

“I noticed that. “ She was glad he finally brought it up. It was blatantly obvious that Avon did not respond well to Blake. Emma knew all the physical signs of fear and Avon couldn’t help displaying most of them when Blake dropped by unexpectedly. “Any idea what’s wrong?”

“I was rather hoping you could to tell me that.” Blake ran his hands through his hair let out a frustrated sigh. ”I know that you examined him thoroughly, but there is nothing in your report that would explain his behaviour - towards me in particular.”

“I examined him when he was out cold and not capable of protesting, like you advised.” Emma said, quoting his exact words. “I put all the relevant information in my report; however I did not asses his mental state.”

“All the _relevant_ information?” Blake was surprised. “I did not ask for the censored version.”

”You received the full assessment of my findings as far as doctor-patient confidentiality allows.” Emma said pointedly.

“Doctor-patient confidentiality?” Blake frowned. It was not like Emma to withhold information from him.

“Even killers and cut throats have rights, Roj." Emma's position on this was firm and she would not make an exception for anyone; not even for Roj Blake. “If you want to know why you make him nervous, then I suggest you find out yourself. Do some digging in your past - analyse your relationship with him, the way it was and the way it is now. You may be surprised what you will find.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing.” Blake said softly, taken aback. Her stern look him made him feel guilty without knowing why.

“Look, Roj, “Emma said, sympathy softening her tone. “You both have lived through a lot and people change - especially after severe traumas. You of all people should know that. The Federation know how to break people and they know how to mould them into the puppets they can use. If Avon has issues with you, then this could very well be the result of what they did to him in prison, but I doubt if he is ever willing to tell anyone about this. You cannot force him to speak about it; that would make you as cruel as the torture experts who did this to him.”

“Not really a good basis to rekindle a friendship.” Blake said, rather dejected.

“Friendship?" Emma echoed with a hint of a smile. "I thought you were never friends?”

Despite the mixed emotions on his face he managed a smile back before he timidly glanced down. “Well, I don’t know what else to call it.”

Kilmonis entered the little office to announce his arrival. He would personally see to it that this particular prisoner actually reached the holding cells without causing any more trouble.

Emma took him to the infirmary where the guard removed the patient’s restraints and he was carefully eased back on his feet. Flanked by two guards Avon was allowed to change into proper clothing.

Blake paused half way through the door and saw how Avon wordlessly accepted Emma’s help. He did not seem to resent the lack of privacy while he changed clothes. He did not even acknowledge the guards and Kilmonis. The tech had once told him that an intelligent man could adapt and clearly that was what he had done. Avon had adapted to prison life and had allowed them to rob him of his privacy, his self control and his dignity. It angered him that the Federation continued to reduce good people to mindless wrecks in their lust for power and control. This was the reason he needed to fight. Avon had never understood his commitment to the anonymous souls that suffered under the yoke of Servalan and the likes - he wondered if he did now.

When they were almost finished getting dressed, Blake stepped into the infirmary.

"Fits you like a glove." he commented when Emma helped Avon into the last piece of clothing - a loose fitting black jacket that shockingly emphasized the pale complexion of his face.

The air in the room was suddenly charged with tension. Despite the fact that Avon was getting better at disguising his condition, his very body language screamed rejection at the new arrival. Blake pretended not to notice; determined not to let this - whatever it was - come between them today. Fortunately Avon was also able to adapt to life in the presence of Blake, because when he looked up at him, there was no longer any fear in his eyes. Pupils still dilated and just the slightest twitch in his hands, but he seemed to have his nerves under control.

"These wouldn’t happen to be yours, by any chance?" He pulled the belt on his trousers a little tighter. "You always were a big eater."

"Vila’s actually.” Blake said, unintentionally emphasizing the fact that Avon was but a shadow of the man he had known on the Liberator. “All set?"

Both Kilmonis and Avon looked up in surprise.

"We're going for a walk." Blake said to Kilmonis. "Alone."

"I was under the impression that the prisoner was to be escorted to our holding cells." Kilmonis countered, slightly annoyed by the sudden change of plans.

"Yes, Stewart. And I will see to it that he gets there, but first we need to go for a walk." Blake turned around to Emma. "I assume he is fit enough to take a little stroll?"

"If you promise to take it easy. ”Emma answered.”The exercise will do him good. Yes, take him for a walk if you want."

"I see you neglected to bring your leash for our little stroll." Avon put in. The way they were talking about him made him feel like a dog.

"No need for that." Kilmonis produced a pair of handcuffs form his pocket.

Without having to be told, Avon offered his hands and with a soft click, the cuffs clicked into place. Kilmonis demonstrably put the key inside his pocket, very sure of himself that his commander would not dare to object.

"Thank you, Stewart." Blake said. "Come on Avon. I'll show you around."

 

  
In spite of the company, Avon enjoyed their little promenade. Ever since his incarceration he appreciated the outdoors more than he’d ever thought possible. The light breeze that tickled his skin felt like an indulgence; an almost forbidden pleasure and the warmth of the bright sun made him feel light-headed. But perhaps this was caused by the pleasant smells in the air. It was dinner time and to his surprise, his stomach announced that he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten or smelled any real food in years and suddenly realized how much he'd missed it. The food pills on the menu in prison were hardly a meal to look forward to.

Blake was blessedly silent and Avon did not feel the urge to speak. They walked along the little cabins, where the daily routine for most inhabitants had started long before Avon had opened his eyes that morning. It was evident that everyone they encountered knew exactly who Blake’s companion was. Avon was the subject of prying eyes and as they progressed, people briefly interrupted their activities to have a good look at him. Blake acted as if it was perfectly natural to take your assassin for an afternoon stroll and ignored the uneasy glances and whispers. He made encouraging remarks and small jokes while they slowly made their way through the camp, which far from resembled a rebel hide-out. It was evident that the quiet little village was a cover and Avon found himself scanning for irregularities that would prove his point. He smiled inwardly - old habits die hard.

From the corner of his eye he glanced at the man beside him. Blake had not changed at all. He was still a master with people. They liked him and he liked them back. He knew everyone by name, even the cheeky boys that had been following them the moment they left the infirmary. He was still the congenial man he had known on Liberator, easygoing, approachable and with an air of confidence and natural authority that gathered respect among those who were willing to follow him. And it was easy to follow him. Avon remembered the charismatic speeches that could win you over. The passion and the fire he himself lacked were Blake's greatest asset. He could sell you an empty shell and make you believe you had acquired a precious diamond.

When they crossed the small town square, Blake halted Avon with just the slightest touch on his arm. He followed Blake’s look in the direction of a tall man who was coming towards them: his face flushed, his stride deliberated and energetic.

“If you value your teeth, then keep your mouth shut.” Blake instructed.

The man was armed - his fist was clenched around a large knife in his belt, the knuckles white of the strain.

“Celias.” Blake greeted him with a cordial nod. He took a step towards him, deliberately shielding Avon with his body.

“When will you decide about his fate?” the man asked in a harsh voice of hardly contained anger, his eyes never leaving Avon.

“All in good time, Celias.” Blake said. “I have not forgotten.”

“If it weren’t for you, I would mark him right here.”

Avon did not fail to notice how the man’s fingers closed around the knife even tighter.

“There is no need for that, Celias.” Blake replied. “Justice will be done, I promise you that.”

“The only justice for him is a painful death.” He finally tore himself away from the object of his anger to look Blake directly in the eyes. “You have more right to mark him as yours, but if you fail to do so, I promise you I will.”

“Go home, Celias.” Blake slowly covered the hand that was resting on the knife with his own and locked eyes with the man. “This is not the time and the place to discuss these matters.”

The man finally noticed the children watching the little scene curiously and seemed to come to his senses.

“I respect you, Blake, but if you don’t mark him as yours very soon, you cannot deny me the right to do so.”

With one last vicious look at Avon, he turned on his heels and left.

Blake looked at Avon and was met with indifferent silence.

“His name is Celias Klyne.” he explained.

“I take it he has some sort of grudge against me.”

“You killed his wife in the tracking gallery. “

Blake paused to let the words sink in but Avon remained annoyingly unaffected.

“Yes, you can say that he has a grudge against you.”

“So he wants revenge.” Avon concluded. “Why won’t you grant his wish?”

“Klyne was born on Gauda Prime. The people here live by strong values and traditions. When someone has wronged you or your family, you have the right to claim him and request the court to mark him as an outcast. Outcasts lose all their rights and people may do with them as they please.”

“In other words: they still practice slavery in these parts.”

“Their mark makes them an outcast.” Blake said, slightly irritated by the fact that Avon mocked the traditions of the people he had grown to respect. “To be killed by anyone who should feel inclined to carry out the verdict. And yes, sometimes the victim’s family may decide to keep them as a slave, when they feel a quick death is not enough punishment. Especially when the victim was the sole provider and leaves behind a family with young children. Slavery is not common practice on Gauda, but those who have committed a serious offence, lose all rights and can indeed be used as such.”

“So basically this man is asking you to mark me as your slave.”

Blake was surprised to see the slightest twinkle of amusement in Avon’s eyes. He smiled at him in silent understanding, enjoying the sudden relaxed atmosphere between them, despite the topic of conversation. The notion that Avon would ever be an obedient slave was absurd and they both appreciated the thought. On the topic of turf wars, they had history.

Back on board the Liberator, leadership had always been a point of discussion. Avon refused to obey orders and Blake did his best to manipulate Avon into whatever he wanted from him. As reluctant as he was to admit it, he was good at manipulating Avon. The man had never been easy to handle, but once Blake had found the right buttons to push, Avon did exactly what he wanted. It would have been so much easier if the Alpha had simply accepted Blake as his leader, or even better, as his equal in the fight against the Federation. But Avon had to be difficult and opposed him every step of the way. Blake learned early on that this was a character trait deeply ingrained in Avon’s psyche. He was wise enough to understand that he should not try to change that. So he chose the only other available option and left. Predictably, in his absence, as commander of the Liberator and later as leader of the rebel crew on Scorpio, Avon had done exactly what Blake expected him to do.

“Celias is a decent man.” Blake said. “He lost his wife, but he is of the opinion that my right to decide on your fate prevails over his. He will accept whatever I deem appropriate.”

“Well, you already made it abundantly clear that the fact that I shot you apparently gives you the right to regard me as your property. It seems that once more my life is back in your hand.” Avon mused and with a bitter smile he added “I knew I would never be free of you.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, Avon.” Blake said, uneasy about the sincerity in Avon’s eyes. “Come on, there’s someone waiting for us.”

“More people who want me dead?”

“On the contrary, they want you to live and I will do my best to grant their wish. Let’s go.”

“Yes, master.” Avon said. “Lead on.”


	11. Chapter 11

The mild breeze carried the sweet fragrance of wood fire and herbs when they arrived at their destination: a little cabin on the outskirts of the settlement. Blake hesitated a moment before he knocked on the door. He gave Avon a supportive nod, which was completely lost on the other man and had him wondering why the rebel leader appeared to be nervous. Blake's gaze wandered from the door to Avon’s new attire and he smiled approvingly until something caught his eye. He pulled the sleeves of Avon’s jacket down, to hide the metal around his wrists. Avon was too stupefied to react and soon fell prey to a range of totally different emotions when he saw who opened the door.

Rhi had expected some tension, but the shadow that immediately fell over Avon’s face made it abundantly clear that he would rather be anywhere else in the universe right now.

"We've made herbal tea." she said and gave Avon an uneasy smile which was received with all the joy of a man facing a firing squad. She stepped aside to let them in.

“Tea and cookies, judging by the smell.” Blake said jovially; evading her scowl when she noticed that Avon was in handcuffs.

Rhi was dressed in casual clothes, white trousers and blue shirt - there was nothing about her that could remind Avon of prison, but still his body betrayed him and remained glued on the doorstep. Blake ignored the tension between the two and gave Avon a little nudge in the back. "Come on Avon, let's get inside."

When they brushed past the girl, Blake gave her an encouraging squeeze in the arm. Rhi had not welcomed the idea of introducing Avon to his daughter so soon and she was more than a little apprehensive about this first meeting.

The pleasant smell of tea and freshly baked cookies filled the small room, which was dominated by a large wooden table where a big teapot, four mugs, and enough food for a small army was waiting for the visitors. The little girl stood beside the table. She was trying to smooth down the folds in her white dress but ceased her attempts when the two men entered and looked up; two big brown eyes full of expectation.

Mare had seen pictures of Kerr Avon - pictures that were manipulated by the Federation. Her father looked exactly like the images she had seen of him; his face grave and unpleasant, the eyes dark and strained, but he was smaller than she had imagined and very thin. She studied him carefully in an effort to spot some obvious characteristics they might have in common.

When Blake said hello, Rhi noticed Avon’s indifference for the girl.

“You didn’t tell him?”

“I didn’t get round to it” Blake lied.

“Tell me what?”

"Avon, I would like you to meet Mare.” Blake hesitated a moment and then decided that there was no point in beating about the bush. “You knew her mother."

Avon regarded the child without even a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

"My mother is Anna Grant." the little girl said.

It went very quiet in the little cabin as three pairs of eyes eagerly waited for a reaction. Avon stood petrified as these words sank in. His eyes fixed on the girl, but they seemed unfocused as if he were mentally escaping the scene. When he failed to move or breathe for several long seconds, Rhi stepped up to him. Her hand went for his arm, but Avon stepped away from her and turned to face Blake - the anger clearly evident in his eyes.

"Why have you brought me here?"

Before Blake could dream up a diplomatic answer to that question, Mare simply dropped the bombshell.

"It wanted to meet my father."

The anger gave way to an inscrutable expression on Avon’s face. Now it was his turn to give the girl an inquisitive stare. Both Blake and Rhi didn’t dare say another word, didn’t dare try to ease the atmosphere. The young girl shifted her weight awkwardly from one foot to the other but never once averted her eyes; stared right back at him with an air of confidence that would kill all misgivings one might have about her assertion.

"I'm not your father." Avon finally said.

"Are too."

"How old are you?"

"I'll be seven next spring."

"You’re too old to be my daughter."

”You left mother six and half years ago.” was the quick reply. ” She was carrying me in her belly when you went away."

The simple and accurate arithmetic shut him up. He vividly remembered saying goodbye to Anna to get the visas. Remembered being shot, getting caught, the trial, Liberator, Scorpio, Gauda Prime and finally.... Cendus. Had it been so many years already? He searched his memory for a discrepancy with Blake's eyes burning in his back all the time.

"Ads up doesn't it?" Blake said, but his smile disappeared when Avon looked up with the same chill in his eyes, he had witnessed in the infirmary.

”What kind of a trick is this, Blake?"

"No trick.” Rhi cut in. "My aunt appoints you as Mare’s father."

Avon stared at her as if he had seen a ghost.

“I am Del Grants daughter.” Rhi explained, cursing herself for her stupidity of accidentally disclosing that little piece of information. The man was confused enough already and here she was hurling more ghosts from the past at him, delivering his daughter to him and presenting herself, the former prison guard as ‘family’ as well.

Avon kept staring at her and it all fell into place. The familiarity about her was something he had noticed on more than one occasion. She looked like her father and to his horror he realized that she even reminded him of Anna; the colour of her eyes, her hair, her posture. All of a sudden it was all painfully familiar and too much to bear.

“I did not father that women’s child.” he said to no one in particular.

“There is no doubt in my mind that she is your daughter, Avon.” Rhi said.

"Rhi says you have the same birthmark as me.” Mare explained helpfully.

The silence that followed was uncanny. Blake surmised that in her capacity as his guard, Rhi had seen more of Avon’s physique than they had ever been awarded on the Liberator, but knowing Avon, this was not something he cared to be reminded of.

“You didn’t _have_ to tell me that, did you?” he said, scarcely above a whisper.

Rhi flinched away from him, alarmed by the dangerous glint in his eyes. The quivering tension in the muscles of his jaw told of the strain he was under to hold back the words that were about to burst from his mouth. Words that burned in the farthest corners of his soul where all the cropped up anger was hidden away, only barely contained by a thin layer of sanity. Words that would hurt, words that spoke of torture and pain, of humiliation and deceit - words that would forever mark Mare’s relationship with her father.

Instinctively she backed up towards the girl and put her arm around her, with an uneasy glance at Blake, who was at a loss himself. He had such high hopes for this meeting but this was not the way he imagined Avon would feel about the woman he’d loved and the child they had together. This was all wrong. The fear that Avon would come apart at the seams in front of his young daughter was very real. Rhi had been right: it was far too early to confront the man with the ghosts from his past.

"Look Avon,” Blake’s voice was very calm in an effort to gentle the rising storm. “Doctor Beauvy will have it confirmed in no time when she cross checks your DNA. If you want the truth you can have it in writing in a day or two."

"That won't be necessary." Avon declared - arctic frost quite evident in his tone. ”I do not have children." He locked eyes with Mare. "Understood?"

The girl nodded.

“Yes, father.”

The unexpected use of that word was a phenomenon they were not prepared for - least of all Avon. He jerked slightly, staring at her in mild shock as if she were an apparition that had suddenly materialised before his eyes. He looked at her and saw her for the first time; caught himself trying to discern familiar features in her countenance, in her posture, in this little girl, that looked up to him unafraid and expecting. Her childlike innocence protected her from the notion that even blood relatives could be your enemies. There was no place in her mind for a father that denied her very existence, let alone a father that was capable of harming her.

“Stop calling me that.”

Blake started to relax a bit. Avon’s words lacked the edge of intensity he expected. The girl had achieved what neither Rhi, Blake or a whole regiment of doctors or psychiatrists could have accomplished.

"You are my father.” Mare said with a determined look in her eyes. “We must learn to live with it."

This nearly made Blake chuckle, were it not for Avon’s quick retort.

"I think I can manage that for the short time I have left."

Avon was gradually slipping into the role of his own nasty self again. He turned to leave and looked straight into a very aggravated face. This was the Blake he remembered from all their arguments on the Liberator. This was the face of a man who could barely control his anger and would need all the resources available to not reside to using his fists. This was the man who came to haunt him in his dreams.

"I would like to go now." Avon said and waited for Blake to step aside.

"Bye father."

And then he was gone, leaving the two adults behind, glaring at each other, neither of them wanting to vent their thoughts about this disastrous attempt to introduce Avon to his daughter.

“Well. At least the first hurdle is taken.” Blake said. Rhi did not even dignify this with a comment.

"You can visit him any time." Blake told the girl. "Just ask me and I’ll arrange it."

"Thank you, Blake." Mare managed to give him a smile, despite her obvious disappointment. "I will if he’ll let me."

"Good.” Blake gave her a warm smile. “I love your dress by the way.”

“Thank you. I didn’t think anyone would notice.”

“O, he noticed.” Blake said. “I’m sure he did.”

This elicited a grateful smile and then he was out the door.

Blake hurried after Avon who was already halfway the town square, where a soldier stopped his flight. Apparently Kilmonis was not prepared to take any more chances with this prisoner and had sent one of the guards after them. When Blake caught up with them, the soldier made sure there was a discreet distance between him and the men.

"Well, I don't need DNA proof to know who she is.” Blake studied Avon's face in the hope to discover some sort of emotion, but it was a fruitless effort. “Mare is just as good in hiding her feelings as her daddy."

"I don’t want to talk about it."Avon said. “Anyway, the girl can’t be just six years old. She’s far too clever for a six year old.”

"Reminds you of yourself at that age, does she?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“So you keep saying.”

That set Avon in motion and he stalked off. Blake followed in his stride.

“Avon you cannot run away from facts. She's your child; doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"No. “

“Aren’t you even curious about her? This girl is your daughter. Are you not curious about the way she lived all these years? About what happened to her after her mother died?”

Avon stopped in his tracks and stiffened.

“I understand that Anna Grant was killed in a raid on Residence One.” Blake continued. “Her attempt to overthrow the Federation was admirable to say the least.”

If he had taken the time to actually look at Avon he would have seen the violent throbbing of the veins in the temple of the man’s skull.

“She died a hero.” Blake pressed on, totally oblivious of the haunting memories tormenting the tech.”You should both be proud of her.”

“Blake, just…” Avon cringed as if Blake was physically hurting him.“….shut up, please.”

It vaguely occurred to Blake that letting the topic drop would be something of a prudent move, considering the fact that Avon ended his request with the word please, but he could not help himself. The way the girl had looked at him, all big brown eyes full of hope – he could not just leave it there. And he simply needed to convince Avon that he had a reason to live.

“No, I will not shut up, Avon.” he said with growing exasperation. “I cannot ignore the fact that your child has come to be with you and you simply refuse to acknowledge her. You have a responsibility towards your own flesh and blood. You owe it to her mother at least.”

This time Blake was really worried why his last comment would elicit such a vehement reaction. Avon abruptly looked up, a dangerously wild flare in his eyes.

“I do not owe her mother anything.” He spoke very slowly and deliberately, the virulence manifested in every word. "Now leave me alone. It’s none of your business."

Avon turned away, shutting himself off, knowing full well that there was no escape from this. Blake was on a mission and would not rest until the issue was resolved to his satisfaction.

“The fact that this girl is in my camp makes it my business.” Blake said and locked eyes with him to make sure that Avon would not miss the underlying threat in his words. “And by God, Avon, you will deal with this properly or else I’ll…”

“Will what?” Avon fixed him with a challenging stare, almost begging Blake to do his worst. ”Turn me over to your friend Klyne? Will you put me in front of the firing squad? Well finally you’ve come to your senses Blake, because that is exactly what I expect you to do, so why don’t you get on with it? Do the inevitable.”

They found themselves back where they started, in front of the sick bay, with the guard in tow, who was uneasy to say the least about the row that was rapidly growing out of hand.

Blake could feel how his anger roused the all too familiar venomous malice he had been fighting for two long years in his dealings with this man. With an impassive look that masked the adrenaline surging through his system, he stepped closer, his body entrapping Avon, making sure their eyes met directly. Blinded by his own anger, he chose to ignore the real fear that appeared in those dark eyes and spoke very calm and collected, ensuring that his words were received exactly the way they were intended.

“You know, Avon, for once I think I will. I will do what I’ve wanted to do on so many occasions when we were still together. And God knows you deserve it.”

Avon knew what was coming but did nothing to defend himself. Blake lashed out and punched him in the face, sending him hurtling towards the ground where his head nearly collided with the guard’s boots.

"Tell the doctor her patient’s back.” Blake snarled at the guard, turned on his heels and strode off.


	12. Chapter 12

“You broke his nose.”

Doctor Beauvy was one of the last to enter the assembly room for the Council meeting and she sat down next to Blake at the conference table. Kilmonis, seated on the other side, had the good grace to bury himself in the notes on his pad in a valiant attempt to ignore the altercation that would undoubtedly ensue.

“Good evening doctor.” Blake made sure to use her official title to remind her of the fact that this was not the time and the place for an argument.

“You picked a fight with a defenceless man and broke his nose.”

“Yes, doctor, we’ve established that.” Blake said, thankful that Emma was tactful enough to keep her voice down in front of the other members of the Council who were settling in their places. The fact that he had finally lost his temper and hit Avon was bad enough, but the shame at the thought that he’d actually broken the man’s nose threw him off balance.

“Since when do we apply the same despicable methods as the Federation?” she said sharply. “This is not what I meant when I said you should try and find out why the man has issues with you.”

”I’m sorry. I lost my temper. He has that effect on me sometimes.”

Emma looked at him incredulously.

“It will not happen again.”

“I doubt that.”

“Do you have that little faith in me, doctor?”

“Oh, I have faith in you Blake, but from what Vila told me about the two of you, I believe that Avon has always severely tested your people skills.”

“I have excellent people skills.”

Emma ignored him.

“For God’s sake, Roj, no wonder the man is scared of you. Did you treat him like this on the Liberator?

“Of course not.” Blake was genuinely offended, mostly because Emma knew full well that he was not like that. “Avon has no reason to be scared of me. Avon has never been scared of anyone in his life.”

“Well, he is now. I thought that was abundantly clear.”

Blake shifted uncomfortably in his chair and leaned in to exclude the listening ears around them.

“Yes. Well. I have been giving the matter some thought. And it occurred to me; would you be free of fear when confronted with the victim of your crime? He is facing execution and is intelligent enough to understand that I’m not very happy about what he did to me.”

“This goes deeper and you know it.”

The empty feeling in the pit of his stomach he’d been having since his first visit to the infirmary, announced itself again. He knew the doctor was right.

“Kerr Avon suffers from some sort of post traumatic stress,” the doctor continued, “and it all has to do with you. As soon as your name comes up, the poor man has to fight to keep his composure.”

“I can assure you, doctor that there was nothing but a healthy animosity between us on the Liberator. We fought, yes, but they were verbal battles. Avon enjoyed those tremendously. If you don’t believe me why don’t you ask Vila.”

“Vila spoke to me about you two and I know his views.”

“His views?” Blake never even considered Vila might have views about the two of them. “No doubt he told you that we were at each other’s throats most of the time.”

“On the contrary. Vila told me there was a lot of love between you two, but you were both too ignorant to notice.”

Blake was dumbstruck by this statement but before he could ask what on earth Vila meant by that, Kilmonis touched his arm to signal that the Council was assembled and they should start the meeting. Their little discussion had not gone unnoticed and several prying eyes were aimed their way.

Blake pulled himself together and gave some of the individual council members a polite nod, while Kilmonis, as chairman of the Council stood to announce the beginning of the meeting.

The doctor leaned in for a last word.

"Tell me Roj, did you enjoy it?"

"What? "

"Hitting him."

Blake answered without hesitating. "Immensely."

He then rose to address his audience. It was time to face the Council and try and save Avon’s life.


End file.
